


oh, 'cause it's gravity

by flusteredkeith (the_silverdoe), the_silverdoe



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Kiss comparisons, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Shiro (Voltron), Post-Kerberos Mission, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Shiro POV, this fic got really out of hand i'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:39:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_silverdoe/pseuds/flusteredkeith, https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_silverdoe/pseuds/the_silverdoe
Summary: In Keith’s orbit, Shiro's never stood a chance.Fold, Shiro tries to say, but the word gets stuck in his throat as he stares down at Keith. Beneath him, Keith is hot and sweaty, heart pounding fast against Shiro’s palm, violet eyes flashing with excitement.And Shiro — Shiro can’t do this. Because whatever distance Keith had been trying to maintain up until now dissipates completely as he stares up at Shiro, gaze intense.You can’t stop this, Shiro,Keith had said.So don’t.





	oh, 'cause it's gravity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ringlov](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ringlov/gifts).



> Merry Sheithmas!! This is a secret santa gift for [ringlovdraws](http://ringlovdraws.tumblr.com/) !!! :) One of her prompts was comparing pre-kerberos and post-kerberos kisses and welp, this fic kinda got out of hand lmao. Nevertheless, it was an honor to write this for you. <3 Your art and how you color and set the mood lighting has always gripped me right in the feels. I truly hope you enjoy this fic!

The lights in the mess hall glow brighter on his last night at the Garrison.

Shiro knows it’s his own imagination: the dull metal of the tables look just as drab as they do any other day, but there’s something about the finality of it all that lends a unique glimmer to the blank, pallid walls of the entire room. On top of that, all of his classmates and friends are here,  _ for  _ him, directing all of their attention on him, celebrating him. Faces in a crowd huddled in chairs all around him, each looking up to him with glowing admiration and respect.

He’s going to miss this.

They talk and laugh together like any other night — Harry telling jokes and Elise sassing him back, Derick complaining about the beef stroganoff and the lack of dessert, Matt geeking out over a gadget he’s invented — Shiro could almost believe nothing is out of place here.

Until he sees a familiar mess of shaggy black hair appear from behind the walls where empty food trays are deposited.

His breathing slows for a moment. It’s not that Shiro doesn’t see this sight everyday. Only he knows too well how often his eyes have followed that stubborn head of silky black hair down the halls and around every corner of the Garrison for the past two years. On most days after dinner, Keith walks out the same exact way after cleaning up his meal, catches Shiro’s eye, then goes to meet him in the training room for a few extra rounds of sparring. There’s nothing unusual about this.

Tonight, however, when Keith looks up and locks onto Shiro’s gaze, he doesn’t smile. His eyes take in the scene surrounding Shiro before trailing away to focus on his walk towards the exit.

“Shiro? You there?”

Shiro blinks as Keith turns his back towards him, then looks back down to face his friends.

“Yeah, sorry — what did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to move this party to Josh’s room,” Harry says. “He says he knows a way to obtain some booze.”

“The night before piloting a ship to Kerberos?” Shiro raises a skeptical eyebrow. “No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“Aw come on,” Elise pipes up. “It’s your last day with us — a sip or two won’t hurt. Surely we can bend the rules a little bit, Mr. Senior Officer?”

She elbows him in the ribs with a smirk. Shiro’s mind, however, is still lingering somewhere outside the cafeteria with a certain cadet.

“Sorry,” Shiro smiles, holding his hands up. “My hands are tied.”

“Seriously?” Josh says. “You only live — hey, where’re you going?”

Shiro hardly pays attention as he stands up abruptly, eyes trained at the exit where Keith’s just disappeared.

“Uh — sorry,” Shiro replies, pushing his chair back under the table. “Just — um, hey. Go ahead and start the party at Josh’s. I’m gonna make sure everything’s in order before I — before I… get there.”

And then he’s off, the sound of his friends’ protests fades out behind him as he makes his way out of the mess hall.

At the end of the corridor, he makes a right. Although he hadn’t seen which direction Keith had turned, Shiro has a vague idea of where he might have gone. Sure enough, when he arrives at the training room, Keith’s already in there, dressed in a black shirt with his orange uniform discarded off to the side, beating up a punching bag.

It’s a sight Shiro’s used to by now, one that he’s seen over and over, memorized by heart ever since the first time he found Keith in the training room all those months ago. And yet, it still doesn’t prepare him for the sinking feeling in his stomach as he realizes that he’ll soon lose this — the freedom to spar with Keith whenever he wants to, the look of defiance on Keith’s face whenever Shiro pins him down, the soft smile Keith reserves for him after a particularly good spar — he’ll soon lose all of this.

_ Please,  _ he thinks as he soaks in the view of Keith’s sweaty back, taut muscles shifting and contracting with every movement he makes.  _ Let me have this moment for a little longer. _

Keith’s punches slow to a stop as Shiro walks up behind him. He reaches out his arms to stop the bag from swaying but doesn’t look up at Shiro.

“Hey,” Shiro says, coming around to lean on the other side of the punching bag. He rests his cheek against the wrinkled leather and gives Keith a small smile.

“Hey,” Keith replies, still avoiding his gaze.

“Wanna go for a couple rounds?” Shiro asks, casual, like this is just any other night where they’ve happened to find themselves alone here after dinner.

Keith doesn’t take the bait.

“Thought you might’ve wanted to spend your last day with your friends,” he says, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with his arm.

“Ah, well,” Shiro replies, running a hand through his bangs. “It wouldn’t really be spending my last day with friends if you aren’t there, now, would it?”

Keith’s eyes flicker up to his face. Shiro stares back, heart pounding loudly in his chest, unflinching.

“You won’t see them for over a year,” Keith states, as though he needed the reminder.

“I won’t see  _ you _ for over a year,” Shiro counters, pushing gently back against the punching bag.

For a moment, Keith seems to struggle with himself — his head dips and lips tighten, brows furrowed with a twitch. Shiro waits, a knot twisting in his stomach as he braces himself for imminent rejection.

But in the next beat, Keith backs away from the punching bag and makes his way towards the mat in the center of the room. Without speaking, he plants his feet down in a fighting stance and looks expectantly at Shiro.

And this — this isn’t the way Shiro had imagined it. Not with the uneasy tension in the air, Keith’s invisible walls, his distant silence. Because despite how much he wants to spend his last day on earth with Keith, Shiro had envisioned a Keith who was smiling and open, not a Keith who was blocked off and sealed tight. That they could hang back and let loose, and treat this like it were any other day of the week.

He didn’t want his last day on earth to feel like his last day on earth. Especially not with Keith.

Shiro reaches up for the buttons on his uniform and begins to undo them one by one. Keith watches without batting an eye, holding his pose with uncharacteristic patience. Cool air grazes Shiro’s skin as he pulls the shirt off his shoulders and slips the sleeves down his arms. He lets the uniform fall in a crumpled heap on the floor and steps onto the mat.

“Ready?” Shiro asks. Tracing the mat with his foot, he raises his hands in combat.

Keith doesn’t respond.

Without warning, he kicks off and charges toward Shiro at full speed. Shiro barely has time to react. Throwing an arm up, he blocks the first punch and then the next, shifting his elbows back to back against each blow Keith sends his way.

He’s using much more force than his normal, Shiro realizes as Keith’s fists keep up their relentless onslaught. Quick and agile as always, Keith swipes and dodges each hit at the speed of light, sharp jabs aimed directly for his chest. It’s pure rage and feverish frustration, and Shiro suspects he has a tiny inkling where this is all coming from.

But despite this newfound intensity Keith is displaying, there’s something rougher and less focused about his form. So when Keith’s foot comes rushing toward Shiro’s face in a hard, direct swing, Shiro catches it easily in his hands and spins Keith off balance until he’s flat on his back with Shiro leaning over him.

“Fold,” Shiro says, a hand pushing down on Keith’s chest.

_ He isn’t trying,  _ Shiro thinks as he stares down at the young cadet. Breathing hard, Keith turns his head away from Shiro and doesn’t move.

Shiro lets him up and backs away, giving Keith room to stand up and reposition himself.

“You’re not focusing,” Shiro tells him with a frown. He’s trying but he’s not sure how to bring them back onto a familiar playing field. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Keith shrugs, wiping the corner of his lips with his hand. But in the next second, Keith’s running at him again, fists curled and jaw set.

And it’s exhausting, Shiro thinks as he continues to block each and every hit Keith throws his way. Not just because Keith is attacking him like barrage of bullets, but because this — this isn’t  _ them.  _ The ease and openness that’s normally between them is strained and tight instead.

But the thing that hurts the most, more than any of Keith’s hard punches or any of his high kicks, is that right now, Shiro’s still here — he hasn’t left yet. And yet, Keith is already treating him like he’s already gone.

A kick from the right catches Shiro before he can stop it. Knees hooking around his neck, Keith pulls him down to the ground until all Shiro can see is the ceiling obscured by the black pants of Keith’s inner thigh.

Keith doesn’t bother to say  _ Fold,  _ but loosens his hold on Shiro immediately and scrambles back away from him.

They go another round.

This isn’t them. Keith, tossing everything he’s learned from Shiro about patience and focus out the window as he spars with an unstable rage, and Shiro, trying his best to adapt, to adjust to Keith’s emotional state.

The atmosphere between them feels like an unraveling, tightly knitted ends coming apart at the seams, and Shiro feels a pang in his chest at his next thought. If a couple rounds of sparring can’t help recapture their usual selves, perhaps whatever it is that they had has already been lost.

Keith’s leg swings at him from behind. Grabbing his foot, Shiro holds it against his stomach as he turns his back, side-stepping Keith’s other foot as his toe catches Keith’s ankle. With one clean sweep, Shiro knocks Keith off his feet and down onto his back.

_ Fold,  _ Shiro tries to say, but the word gets stuck in his throat as he stares down at Keith. Beneath him, Keith is hot and sweaty, heart pounding fast against Shiro’s palm, violet eyes flashing with excitement.

And Shiro — Shiro can’t do this, he can’t hold back anymore. Because whatever distance Keith had been trying to maintain up until now dissipates completely as he stares up at Shiro, gaze intense.

_ You can’t stop this, Shiro,  _ Keith had said last week.  _ So don’t. _

Shiro had taken one long look into his deep eyes reflecting the stars above and sighed. They both knew there was nothing they could do to change the situation.

_ I’m sorry, Keith, _ he had said, before turning around and walking away.

Now, however, Keith’s pulse is wild beneath his fingertips, dark eyes drawing Shiro in, his gravity pulling him closer and closer until—

Shiro lets go. Leaning forward, he closes the gap between them and covers Keith's mouth with his own. Keith’s jaw relaxes beneath him, chin angling up to meet him in the kiss, and just like that, all the tension and walls between them fall away at once, tight strings loosening and dissolving in the wake of desire.

It’s clumsy at first, chapped lips moving against the scrape of teeth, but it’s perfect, so perfect. Reaching up, Shiro threads his fingers through Keith’s hair, tugging gently at his mullet at the base of his neck. Keith lets out a soft moan from the back of his throat. The sound sends a shiver down Shiro’s spine and for a moment, he lets himself forget what comes tomorrow.

_ Please,  _ Shiro thinks desperately as Keith spreads his fingers flat across his chest,  _ let me keep this. _

From his place here with Keith on the ground to the furthest reaches of the moon, Shiro is determined to hold on tight.

Guilt nibbles inside him as his mind slips back into reality —  _ Kerberos, tomorrow, a year.  _ Bracing himself for the loss, Shiro breaks away and lifts his head back.

He’s crossed some line somewhere and he knows it. But even if he could take it back, he wouldn’t.

Keith stares up at him, lips swollen and hair mussed. There’s a flicker of defiance in his eyes, but in the next second, it’s gone, only to be replaced by a look of defeat and acceptance.

He knows, Shiro realizes. He knows as Shiro does that this can’t last, but it didn’t stop either of them from wanting it anyways.

Pushing up from the ground, Shiro sits back on his legs before slowly getting up to his feet. Below him, Keith props himself up on his elbows, gaze never leaving Shiro’s.

Turning his head away, Shiro shuts his eyes. He has to let this go; he has no other choice. But maybe it’ll all be easier if he can’t see Keith’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro says.

Without another glance, he turns around and heads towards the door. He almost makes it to threshold when Keith’s voice stops him cold.

“This shouldn’t change anything, Shiro,” he calls out from behind.

Shiro pauses at the exit, one hand on the door frame. The urge to whip around and rush back to Keith arises in him but he does his best to squash it.

“I hope you’re right,” Shiro replies instead, head slightly tilted back towards Keith. He’s about to take a step out of the room when the question tumbles out from his own mouth.

“Will I still see you tomorrow before the launch?”

Silence stretches, filling the empty spaces of the training room between them. Shiro waits with bated breath.

“Yeah,” Keith says finally. “I’ll be there.”

“See you, then,” Shiro calls out over his shoulder, before dipping his head down and walking out the door.

Maybe Keith’s right, Shiro thinks as he heads down the corridor back to his own room. Maybe all of this isn’t going to change much at all.

But no matter how much he wants to believe it, Shiro can feel the truth deep down in his bones.

Nothing will ever be the same again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_ Shiro? _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ Shiro! _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_. _

_ Shiro, are you there? _

 

It’s dark around him when Shiro wakes up. He’s on the table again. His hands start shaking — any moment, someone’s going to come check up on him and there will be nothing he can do to prevent them from hurting him no matter how much he fights against the straps around his wrist while the panic rises in his chest—

But wait, no, there’s an absence of that fluorescent purple glow. If he’s not in the lab room, he’s in his cell. It’s quiet here… too quiet. There’s nothing he can do until they open the heavy metal doors… 

He shuts his eyes and tries to breathe. It smells different in here. There’s no sweat, no blood. Just mustiness, the scent of sage clinging in the air… with room to expand, and, something else, something familiar — not the stench of rotting flesh he had gotten used to in his cell, but something more pleasant that fills his chest with warmth and comfort, a muffled but distinct smell he hasn’t recognized in a long, long time.

It’s then that he becomes aware of another life form breathing next to him. Gearing himself up for the worst, he creaks open his eyes and lifts his head.

His heart stops. There, sitting with his back against the wall, is  _ Keith. _

His first instincts are that this is a dream. Shiro shuts his eyes, then opens them again.

Unless his vision is lying to him, Keith is really here. It’s a peaceful image: he’s sleeping with his head lying on his shoulder, mouth slightly parted, breathing slowly. A sense of calm washes over Shiro at the sight of it.

_ Keith. _

It’s too good to be true. Shiro can’t trust this. Reaching out, he extends his right arm towards him, hovering over Keith’s shoulder.

He pauses. The hand is still metal and alien, still cold and unfeeling. To touch Keith with it at all feels wrong. Shiro recoils it and lets it drop back down to his side. The mattress creaks beneath him as he rolls over, reaching his left arm out instead.

It’s not a dream. Keith’s hair is as silky and thick as always. At the risk of waking him, Shiro merely brushes his bangs aside, but he pushes it back enough to get a good look at his face.

Shiro isn’t sure how much time has passed since he’s been lost in space, but he’s fairly certain that to someone who doesn’t know Keith well, the young cadet’s features haven’t changed all that much. But Shiro has committed himself more times than he’d ever admit to memorizing the lines of Keith’s face, the way his bangs fall into his indigo eyes. His switchblade smile. As he stares at him now, Shiro sees that Keith’s hair has grown quite a bit at the back, peeking out over the white collar of his jacket pulled up over his neck. Although Keith has always been skinny, his cheeks look more defined than before, pale skin stretched over hollow bones. There are dark circles under his eyes and a wrinkle between his brows and Shiro wonders, with a pang, how much sleep he must have lost since the Kerberos mission went missing.

It hits him then just how much Shiro’s missed. Keith’s grown and adapted in his absence, and Shiro wasn’t part of any of it. He wishes he could take it back, undo all the pain it must have caused Keith to find out and believe that Shiro was dead and return their lives to how everything was before. And that’s the part that kills him the most. He can’t go back. No matter how much he wants to, what’s done is done. What’s happened has happened.

With a small sigh, Shiro drops his hand and turns his head towards the window.

Outside, the sun is rising. If this isn’t a dream, it’ll be the first morning light Shiro has seen since the day he left Earth.

The faint sound of incoherent muttering draws his attention back to Keith. Shiro turns, unsure of what to say or how to face him. When his eyes fall upon him, however, Shiro lets out a breath; Keith is merely mumbling in his sleep.

The light from outside calls out to him. With one last look at Keith, Shiro gets up from the couch in the living room and steps outside.

The last of the stars are still glimmering above. They no longer twinkle the same way in Shiro’s eyes. He lets out a long exhale and walks out towards the horizon.

Everything has changed.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Things don’t stop changing.

They find Voltron, they adjust to life on an alien ship, and Shiro slowly uncovers what happened to him in captivity. They fight battles. The universe is at stake. Their lives are on the line.

Shiro watches as Keith changes too. He grows into his place as a paladin. He opens up to six other people. Learns to trust them, to laugh with them, to simply  _ be  _ with them. And although Shiro isn’t used to sharing, it’s everything he’s always wanted for him: a family.

He used to think he knew Keith so well. And, well, that’s changing too. Turns out, there’s a lot Shiro’s never known about the boy — a knife Keith’s kept hidden all his life, a deep connection with the Blade of Marmora, Galra blood running through his veins…

There’s always been more to Keith than meets the eye, but now, Shiro is just starting to see how much.

There’s no going back after all this.

After catching everyone up on what happened at the Blade headquarters, Shiro carries Keith to the med bay. Although his shoulder wound has stopped bleeding, he’s still beaten and bruised. Beneath the white Altean bodysuit, the same kind Shiro had worn during his time in the cryopod, Keith is covered in cuts and dried blood, eyes half open as he fights to stay conscious. It physically pains Shiro to look at him. But with so little time before a big battle, a few vargas in a cryopod is the best solution they have.

“Can you stand?” Shiro asks once they reach one of the open pods. He tries to settle Keith down on his feet, arm around his back to support him.

Keith doesn’t say anything but his grip tightens around Shiro’s neck as his body becomes more slack in Shiro’s arms and — that’s answer enough.

“I’ve got you,” Shiro says, shouldering Keith’s weight at his side and bringing him closer into the cryopod. Keith’s toes scrape the base of the pod but his feet refuse to flatten, and when Shiro tries to release him, Keith clings on tighter.

“Keith, I can’t — you have to let go,” he tells him, stepping into the cryopod with him in an attempt to ease Keith off of himself. Stubborn as always, Keith refuses to set his feet down, arms wrapping themselves around Shiro’s shoulders in a vice-like grip.

“Okay, fine,” Shiro stops struggling with Keith and steps back from the pod. “What’s up?”

“Don’t leave me,” Keith murmurs into his neck. Shiro’s skin prickles up towards his breath.

“Keith,” he says, softer this time. “You need to heal.  _ I  _ need you to heal. We all do. We need you in this fight.”

“I know,” Keith replies, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. “It’s just — can we just — hold for a minute?”

Shiro pulls back so he can get a proper look at Keith’s face. There are cuts on his cheeks, a burgeoning bruise where one of the Blades punched him straight in the face, and dried flecks of blood splattered across his bottom lip. He’s never looked more physically worn and beaten up before, his eyes are fighting to stay open, and yet, there’s still a flicker of life and fierce determination dancing in those violet hues.

“Yeah,” Shiro says finally. “Yeah, of course.”

Keeping his prosthetic hand flat on Keith’s back, Shiro bends his knees so he can slowly lower Keith with him to the ground. He takes a seat on the first step below the pod as Keith slumps down at his side, his cheeks pressed against Shiro’s shoulder.

“You okay?” Shiro asks. His voice comes out velvety, low, and if he turns his head just enough, he could kiss Keith on the forehead. It takes everything in him not to.

“I’ve had worse,” Keith mutters, but there’s a trace of a chuckle in his voice. Shiro finds himself relaxing into it.

“Worse than getting pounded into a pulp by tall aliens for roughly fourteen vargas?” Shiro smiles in spite of himself.

“Pretty sure it hurt a lot worse when the Kerberos mission disappeared.”

Shiro drops his smile and looks down at Keith. He wears a wry, unironic smile as he gazes up into Shiro’s eyes.

_ I’m sorry,  _ Shiro tries to say, but it never makes it out of his mouth. Keith seems to understand without him saying. The apology dies in his throat.

And Shiro wishes, for the umpteenth time, that he could take it all back. Undo the damage done. Recapture what they had before and go back to a time when the worst thing they had to worry about was a bad sim score.

He sighs. He’d do anything to get it all back.

As though reading his mind, Keith holds his gaze and brings a hand up to Shiro’s cheek.

“Nothing’s changed for me. You know that, right?”

Shiro’s throat constricts. His first instinct is to say  _ yeah, me too _ but not because he genuinely believes it. He can’t bear the thought of letting Keith down. Not now, not after everything they’ve been through. And it’s especially because of everything they’ve been through that Shiro’s not sure he can tell the truth. They’ve been thrown into an alien war, Keith’s an alien himself, and there’s so much more they don’t know. A wide path before them stretching out into the future, dark and unknown. Even if Keith claims nothing has changed, how can he be so sure nothing  _ will _ change, later on?

Instead, Shiro continues to stare at Keith. Everything seems to slow down for a moment. There’s a war waging out there, the Blades have just joined them, Keith is part Galra, and yet, all that exists right now is Keith’s eyes on him and his fingers in Keith’s hair.

He’s not sure how it happens, not sure who leaned in first or who pulled who in, but in the next second, his lips are on Keith’s and Keith’s kissing him back as though the world's about to end. He’s weak from the trials, but still manages to be rough and desperate the way his mouth slides over to catch Shiro’s bottom lip in his. A muffled sound escapes the back of Shiro’s throat and it only encourages Keith to keep going. His nails dig into Shiro’s shoulders as Keith pulls him closer, tongue licking into Shiro’s mouth as he clings onto Shiro as though his life depended on it.

The longing to be even closer burns inside Shiro’s chest and for the first time, Shiro considers what Keith’s said is true. After everything that’s happened between them since he left for Kerberos, there’s one thing that hasn’t changed. His desire for Keith, his tendency to orbit too close to the sun, threatening to collapse into Keith’s center — it hasn’t diminished one single bit.

After a few moments, Keith’s mouth goes slack. Whatever last remnants of the energy spike he had leading up to the kiss falls away as his tiredness takes over. Sensing this, Shiro comes to a stop, lips still ghosting over his as he pulls back just a hair’s width. Keith blinks weakly up at Shiro and smiles before letting his head fall back onto Shiro’s shoulder, his breathing shallow.

Cupping the back of Keith’s neck, Shiro cradles his head in his human hand as he lifts Keith back up into a standing position with him. He carries him over to the cryopod and sets Keith’s feet at the base of its interior. With great care, he gradually leans Keith against the back of the pod and holds him, just a bit longer.

Shiro’s heart is still racing fast as he whispers in Keith’s ear:

“We’ll talk about it when it’s all over, okay?”

Keith manages a weak smile before he nods and finally lets go of Shiro. Shiro steps back and allows the cryopod glass to close over Keith’s form.

_ Later,  _ Shiro tells himself. They never seem to find each other in the present. It’s always wanting to go back or waiting for the future.

So for the present being, Shiro lets himself linger in this moment, fingertips brushing the surface of glass as he stares up into Keith’s face.

Shiro closes his eyes and hopes for the present.

  
  


* * *

 

 

Later doesn’t come for a while. With their luck, it looks like it might never come at all.

“We’ve got the darkness contained, for now, but the barrier won’t be able to hold it for much longer!” Pidge yells over the comms.

They’re here together, all of them, at the end of the universe, with Zarkon defeated and Prince Lotor shackled up in the castle, but there’s still one more thing that needs to be dealt with.

“Remind me again why someone decided to open up an unfathomable and unstable rift in the center of the planet?” Hunk says, voice nervous.

“Uh, crazy witch lady from ten thousand years ago can’t stop tampering with science and now the entire universe will pay for her hubris?” Lance offers.

“Hubris,” Pidge says. “Big word, Lance.”

“Okay, okay, can we like, focus back on the fact that we are literally  _ about to die _ if we don’t  _ do something soon _ ,” Hunk stresses. “Any ideas guys?”

Shiro racks his brain. They stand as Voltron on a nearby outcropping of rock and stare into Lotor’s inter-reality gate and beyond. Panic rises in his chest as he watches the black blob of dark matter throw punches against the temporary barrier they’ve set up, pounding harder and harder with each blow.

“So they’ve already tried blowing this thing up before, right?” Lance asks.

“My father blew the entire planet up,” Allura reminds them. “Yet the rift is  _ still _ here.”

“If you can’t blow it  _ up _ , can you blow it  _ in _ ?” Hunk asks.

“What do you mean?” Lance asks.

“Wait, that’s it!” Pidge exclaims. “Remember Ulaz?”

Shiro’s mind flashes back at once to that familiar wide expanse of space, the xanthorium clusters littering the field, a Robeast charging fast at them, Ulaz flying out to meet it.

“But how do we open a space pocket?” he asks. “How did Ulaz do it?”

For a long moment, nobody responds.

“Pidge?” Shiro prompts.

“I believe Slav has constructed a timed bomb that can open up a space pocket similar to the one Ulaz made,” Pidge says, voice tapering upwards at the end. He can almost hear the  _ but _ clinging on to her last word.

“But what?” Shiro asks, preparing himself for the worst.

“Well, the quantum oscillations from a collapsing black hole is really unstable, the thermal pressure would be too much! We can’t just toss it in from a distance — one wrong move can disrupt the quantum gravitational fields and trip the entire system to implode under its own weak force!” Pidge explains.

“So what does that mean?” Lance asks.

Pidge takes a deep breath. “It means somebody has to go in there and plant it by hand.”

The paladins go quiet as Pidge’s words sink in. Then—

“I’ll do it.”

Keith’s voice echoes low and rough in his ears. His words are full of that determination and resolve Shiro has come to know so well and — no. No. This is not how it’s going to go down.

“Are you insane?” Lance exclaims the first thing on everyone’s minds. “You could die!”

“You got a better idea?” Keith shoots back, as though the five of them are just on another one of their non life-threatening training sessions and are still learning how to form their lions.

“Well — admittedly, no,” Lance replies. “But I’m sure there are tons of other ideas that don’t involve any of us getting  _ killed _ !”

“Lance is right,” Shiro says at once. “Pidge, can’t we just send in a drone or something, or reach in with Voltron’s right hand?”

“Voltron needs to stay out here and make sure the darkness doesn’t escape,” Keith responds for her. “And we’ve seen what happens when we try to send a drone over a rift. It can’t withstand it.”

“And what makes you think  _ you _ can?” Lance counters.

“I don’t know, Zarkon did it once,” Keith says. “Just reach the right hand in past the barrier and I’ll slip out.”

“And how are you going to get back?” Hunk asks.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Keith replies.

“Keith, no,” Shiro punches a button to open up a video feed between them. The interior of the Red Lion appears on his screen. Keith snaps his attention to Shiro at once.

“Don’t do this,” he pleads. “There has to be another way.”

Keith gives him a fond smile and taps his headset to shut the others out.

“Shiro,” he says, his voice going soft. “If I don’t make it out of there—”

“ _ No.  _ Stop talking. We can find another way.”

“—I want you to know—”

“Keith,  _ please _ . Don’t do this.”

“—no matter what’s happened or what will happen—”

“ _ Keith.” _

“— _ I love you. _ ”

Shiro stops breathing. The last three words ring loud in his ears.

“I always have.”

Keith is smiling up at him from the video screen, his eyes twinkling like stars behind his visor, and —  _ god,  _ he’s never looked more beautiful than he does now and Shiro — Shiro can’t handle it. They’ve lost each other more times than they can count, and if they’re not careful, Shiro is about to lose Keith one last time. Forever.

“I’ll see you on the other side, Shiro,” he says, and then the video feed cuts out.

“Keith!” Shiro calls out after him. He jabs haphazardly at the buttons on his dash to try and reconnect but it doesn’t go through. The rest of the their voices flood back in as the comms are reopened.

“Keith? What’s happening?” Lance’s voice emerges first.

“Did we figure out a plan?” Hunk asks.

“Yeah, Allura?” he hears Keith say. “Pass me the bomb.”

“Keith,” she says with warning in her tone. “We can discuss this—”

“There’s no time,” Keith says. “Just shut up and trust me.”

“Allura, don’t give it—”

But Shiro’s words are cut off as he sees the Red Lion arm reach out towards the castle.

“Good luck, Keith,” he hears Allura say. “Please come back to us.”

Keith doesn’t respond to this. Instead, Shiro feels Voltron pull forward as the Red Lion drives on towards the rift.

He knows there’s no stopping Keith now.

“Ready?” Keith asks them.

But there’s no way they can prepare for what comes next. Taking aim, the Red Lion fires a laser beam at the barrier. Shiro watches as it shoots towards the rift, blasting through the gate until the dark matter takes a hit.

It falls back and disperses. The Red Lion sticks its arm inside as a shroud of black cloud tries to wrap itself around Voltron.

“Hunk!” Shiro cries out. “We need you!”

Hunk calls forth his blaster and fires at once, a bright shower of yellow light flying in all directions at the beast. Somewhere in between it all, Keith slips out.

Voltron falls back away from the rift as the monster reforms itself for attack.

“We need a sword!” Shiro yells as it starts to wrap itself around them again.

“What we really need is to throw it back to the other side before Keith seals up the rift!” Pidge shouts back.

“But we can’t communicate with Keith over the comms when he’s on the other side!” Hunk cries.

“This is insane!” Lance shouts. “I knew this was a bad idea all along.”

“Just keep firing!” Shiro commands.

With the combination of Pidge’s and Hunk’s cannons, Voltron blasts its way through the monster, forcing it further and further back towards the rift.

“On the count of three,” Shiro says as they aim Hunk’s cannon at it. “One. Two. Three.”

The force of the blast sends Voltron careening backwards. The dark matter flies backwards, hurtling faster and faster until — it crosses the other side.

“Run for it!” Pidge screams.

“What about Keith?” Shiro demands.

The rift glows suddenly bright, purple sparks of electricity flashing above its surface. A star beginning to fall in on itself.

“He’s trying to save the universe. He’s trying to save us all,” Pidge says. “It won’t do him any favors if—”

She pauses midway through her sentence. Shiro feels it too. It’s a sensation they’re all used to, the same one they felt before Zarkon tore them apart — as though a strong energy has gripped Voltron by the whole, pressing in on them at the chest until the pressure is too much—

It explodes.

Voltron falls apart. Shiro staggers back in the Black Lion, his eyes shut from the force of it all. In the distance, he hears a lion roar.

Red.

She zips through the galaxy like bullet towards the rift, trailing fire behind her at the speed of light.

_ Save him,  _ Shiro thinks desperately.  _ Please. _

“We’ve gotta go!” Lance yells.

Shiro hears the rest of the lions zoom away towards the castle as Red flies through the rift.

“Shiro?” Lance asks. “Shiro!”

_ Come on, Red, come  _ **_on_ ** _. _

Bolts of lightning crackle all over the circular gate as the rift begins to fold. Shards of metal break off and gravitate inwards. With each blink of the eye, the entrance crumples further and further towards its center.

**_Come on, Keith._ **

“Shiro!” Hunk and Pidge yell.

The gate starts to catch fire, chunks of space rocks are pulled into the rift, the opening begins to collapse, and then—

The rift implodes and disappears from existence.

But not before a streak of red shoots out from the center. Out from the beam of light and debris exploding outwards, it zooms towards Shiro like a comet. Taking this as a sign, Shiro flies with it back to the castle, his heart pounding fast.

Once inside, Shiro parks his lion and rips his helmet off. Tossing it aside, he dashes out of Black’s mouth and sprints towards the Red Lion’s hangar.

When he arrives, Red is sitting down before him with its head resting over its paws. Fear grips his heart as he runs closer up to the lion.

_ Please, be here. Please, be alive. _

“Keith?”

The doors to the cockpit slide open. His heart pounds loudly in his ears. If Keith isn’t here — if Keith didn’t make it —

Shiro doesn’t let himself finish that thought. Bracing himself for the worst, he takes a step in.

But before he can get any further, the sound of a jet pack whooses at him as a large weight slams straight into his chest, knocking him backwards until he topples off his feet by the door. Shiro lands flat on his back and receives a mouthful of hair, a vice-like grip wraps itself around his torso.

“K-Keith?”

Tightening the muscles in his abs, Shiro props himself up and leans back on his elbows. Dark indigo eyes stare back at him.

“Hey,” Keith says, a small smile playing upon his lips. With one leg in between Shiro’s, Keith hovers over him, his hand splayed over his heart, a warm weight on his chest.

“Hey,” Shiro replies. Bringing his human hand up, he sinks his fingers into Keith’s hair, thumb brushing across his cheek. “It’s good to have you back.”

Keith lets out a little chuckle as he leans in close.

“But Shiro,” he says, voice velvety and soft. “I never left.”

And then Keith tips forward and kisses Shiro full on the mouth. It’s soft and slow, lips moving sweetly against his as though they have all the time in the world. And perhaps they do now, now that Zarkon has been defeated and the rift has been closed. The rest of the world falls away as Shiro cradles his head and pulls him closer, their mouths searching the other’s — a gentle exploration.

_ Nothing’s changed for me,  _ Keith had said.

And now, Shiro thinks he finally understands.

It’s like a law of gravity. Even if he strays far away from Keith’s orbit, Shiro can rest in the knowledge that they’ll always find their way back.

Tipping his head up, Shiro relaxes his jaw and smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hello to me on [tumblr](https://flusteredkeith/tumblr.com) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/flusteredkeith)!


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